


Not-so Sanguine

by ghoulaesthetics



Series: tumblr prompts [7]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Halloween, M/M, Prompt Fill, Tumblr Prompt, and also kinda drunk, implied mchanzo, mercy is sick of everyone's shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-28 07:34:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8436937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghoulaesthetics/pseuds/ghoulaesthetics
Summary: The first time she noticed, it was panic-inducing. By the third time, she was getting sick of everyone’s shit. By the seventh, she was more than ready to start giving out some real injuries.It wasn’t really like she could help it; as a doctor, her instinct upon seeing blood was 'Oh, injury, I need to fix that.' Normally, this wasn’t an issue. Normally, this instinct meant she was doing her job correctly.Tonight, though, it simply meant that she was providing unintentional entertainment for her coworkers. She blamed it partially on tipsiness, and partially on the fact that she worked with assholes.





	

**Author's Note:**

> i harassed my friends for some overwatch prompts and i got a very mixed bag lmao. this one was "mercy on halloween frantically falling for it each time someone else comes in with fake blood pouring off them and getting progressively more pissed as the night goes on"
> 
> and yes, title is lame but also a play one words so there's that. 
> 
> thank u for that maj, this is for you, enjoy.

The first time she noticed, it was panic-inducing. By the third time, she was getting sick of everyone’s shit. By the seventh, she was more than ready to start giving out some  _ real  _ injuries. 

It wasn’t really like she could help it; as a doctor, her instinct upon seeing blood was  _ Oh, injury, I need to fix that. _ Normally, this wasn’t an issue. Normally, this instinct meant she was doing her job correctly. 

Tonight, though, it simply meant that she was providing unintentional entertainment for her coworkers. She blamed it partially on tipsiness, and partially on the fact that she worked with assholes. 

The first offender had been Hanzo, who had showed up as a Vampire, opposite McCree’s Van Helsing. With that in mind, he naturally went all out. This included faux blood dripping from the mouth. Angela had honed in on this from across the room and marched herself over speedily, ready to staunch the bleeding and suture him up as best she could. It was a reflex, honestly, and the result was a very awkward encounter, in which she got far too close to his mouth, stared for a moment, and then backed off without a word back to her original place across the room. There wasn’t even a greeting involved. She was very certain that both he and McCree were staring back, confused but wholly unwilling to question her. 

Drinking more directly after that was definitely the result of embarrassment. 

The third time was Mei’s doing. Angela got along fantastically with Mei, usually. There was a shared sense of bitter camaraderie between them. Mei’s costume tonight had been--well, she wasn’t entirely sure what Mei was supposed to be, but there was definitely a heavy amount of gore-makeup involved. ( _ Frozen zombie, perhaps? _ ) 

And because Angela was such a good friend, she very quickly thrust her (third) White Russian into Fareeha’s hand and dashed to the couch where Mei was sitting, dropping down on into an awkward squat and grabbing Mei’s knees. Mei jumped at the sudden motion and touch, but quickly recovered.

“Is everything okay Angela? You look… a bit flushed. And annoyed, actually.” She pointed out.

Angela narrowed her eyes and stared hard at Mei, who was looking progressively more and more uncomfortable under her gaze. 

“Your eyes aren’t actually bleeding, are they,” she deadpanned. 

“No?” Mei squeaked.

Angela nodded, mostly to herself, sucked in a breath, and uttered a single “Okay.” Fareeha had made her way over during all of this, and used the pause to pull her intoxicated girlfriend off of the floor. 

Angela was vaguely aware of Fareeha’s voice beside her head. “Up we get,” she said as Angela continued to twist her head around to half-heartedly glare at Mei. “Let’s get some water in you,” she said as Angela whipped her head around to glare at Hanzo. 

Both of them, she decided, were now on her shit-list. 

The rest of the incidents were minor, for the most part. Fareeha kept a close eye on her and made sure to steer her away from anyone who had perhaps put a little more effort into their costumes than necessary. If Angela hadn’t been getting so progressively irritated, Fareeha might have even found it entertaining. She would have also likely found it more entertaining if Angela didn’t miraculously keep spawning White Russians and Vodka Sodas every time she looked away. (To date, she still cannot figure out how she was doing that so quickly, or if she was being supplied by someone else. Secretly, she suspects Lena, but lacks the evidence to call her out.) 

The last incident, however. The final straw, the one that truly pushed Angela over the edge, was caused by none other than Ana Amari herself. 

Ana had a much larger sense of humour than people gave her credit for. The fact was, it came out at odd times, and one could never quite be certain if they were going to be the butt of the joke or not. 

She had been the last to arrive, not really fashionably late, but certainly at her own pace. She had dusted off her old pirate get up, though this time it had an undead twist. This was fine. Fareeha had forewarned Angela of this, and made sure to calmly deposit her on the couch beside Reinhardt, who had agreed to babysit her momentarily while Fareeha raided the snack table. 

What was considerably  _ less  _ fine was the way that Ana had elected to greet them. Before angela could even formulate a ‘hello’ in response to the new presence, Ana had taken it upon herself to flash them both an overly-serene smile, which was apparently the cue for a copious amount of fake blood to come dripping out of her mouth, coating her chin, neck, and chest. Most of the people present were impressed, complimenting her on the dedication to her character and theatrics for an office Halloween party. 

Angela was not one of those people. 

She made a noise of panic and frustration, and made a leap forward to do--well, she wasn’t entire sure  _ what  _ her plan was, but it was definitely something. Doctor’s instincts and all that. 

Or rather, she attempted to move forward. What actually happened was more of an ungraceful drunken stumble, and resulted in her being caught by Reinhardt, and being placed gently back down into her seat. She was very, very certain that she could hear resounding laughter from everyone in attendance who saw her display. 

Everyone. Everyone was now on her shit-list, she decided right then. No one was safe. 

(Despite what Fareeha would tell her later, no, she was absolutely not pouting. People like her did not  _ pout _ after a Halloween prank.) 

Fareeha returned seconds after the incident with more snacks and water, offering them to Angela, who could’ve sworn she saw her snickering. 

“Fareeha, darling,” she said, very carefully trying not to slur and failing anyway.

“Hm?” she asked, popping a few baby carrots into her mouth.

“I am going to kill your mother.” 


End file.
